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22 September 2013

There is Nothing You Can Do

I do not know why but I find myself in this second half of
life thinking a lot about Sabbath. I have an inkling this is normal. I suppose
we don’t put much stock in Sabbath until we have seen enough and done enough to
learn that our incessant seeing and doing does not get us all that far.

When we start to learn this, we think: “Well, maybe if I
took a break, I’d be able to get farther and do more in the long-run.” So, we
start practicing rest for utilitarian reasons. We think that rest will help us accomplish
more.

I suppose that is a step in the right direction. But that’s more
like marrying someone because you’re in love with the idea of love without
actually loving the other Person. We want what “being in love” will get us
without the scandal of “being loved”. One experiences the first type as a state
of control while the second case is something that lies beyond one’s control.

Sabbath is not something we can manipulate. “If I do this,
she will do that.” The ancients personified Sabbath for this reason. They
called her Queen Sabbath—and she will not be controlled. But, she is good. Under
her rule, we live in love—a love that is granted by divine fiat, not earned—just
because the King that comes with her is himself love.

By its own virtue and character such a sovereign act reminds
us: “There is nothing you can do to
earn this love. There is nothing you
can do to earn this love. There is nothing you can do to earn this love.”*

The only way to cherish, honor and love Sabbath is to stop “doing”
in heart, mind and body. As soon as we start “doing” we stop loving her.

This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. (See? I
still can’t escape that word “do”!)

I do know one thing, though: if practicing Sabbath is something
we do, it is more like play—for in play we rest
while doing.